Whose Woods These Are
by OneDollarFlipFlops
Summary: A year after Seven of Nine's death in the original timeline, Janeway and Chakotay have dinner in her quarters. C/7 and J/C, but mostly J/C friendship.


Title: Whose Woods These Are

Rating: K (or G, whichever you prefer)

Pairings: C/7 (discussed), J/C romantic (discussed), J/C friendship

Things You Should Know Before You Read: This story assumes you have read Kristen Beyer's short story "Isabo's Shirt" from the _Distant Shores_ collection. If you haven't, go buy it. This story takes place in the Endgame Admiral's timeline. The one where Chakotay marries Seven.

* * *

They were to have dinner in her quarters that night as they did every week, catching up on ship's business and ensuring the other ate a proper meal away from their respective desks. In light of the circumstances, she'd offered to move it to a different night.

"No," he'd said, standing up from their brief review of the duty shifts for the next week in her ready room. "But thank you."

She'd smiled and nodded, and he returned to the bridge. Now, in the silence of her quarters, as she fanned the smoke away from the burned casserole in the replicator bay, she wished he'd agreed to her proposal. "You couldn't work with me this one time," she scolded the replicator. Her door chimed and she said, "Come in."

Chakotay walked through the door with thermos in hand and he smiled briefly at the way she'd whirled around to face him, blocking his view of the replicator but not the acrid smell of carbon. "I had a feeling this would come in handy," he said, holding up the thermos. "Mushroom soup?"

Kathryn chuckled softly and shook her head. "Once again, you rescue the meal. I'll replicate the wine."

As she recycled the ruined casserole and punched in the request for red wine, she heard Chakotay opening the thermos and pouring the soup into bowls she'd intended for the salad she hadn't had the chance to replicate.

When both sat at the table, Kathryn picked up her wineglass and hesitated. Chakotay was staring at his bowl, spoon in hand, but not moving.

"Chakotay?"

He looked up and blinked. "I'm sorry, Kathryn."

She shook her head. "It's fine." _I miss her, too_, she thought.

He set down the spoon and picked up his wineglass, holding it up in a silent toast. She raised hers as well, and they drank.

The next several minutes were spent covering what they couldn't finish in their meeting earlier in the day. They hit a lull in the conversation. The soup was gone, the wine bottle near empty.

"Kathryn," Chakotay began, not looking at her. "Do you remember what you said to me when I took you to Venice all those years ago?"

She swallowed, and braced herself for what was coming. "Yes." Of course she remembered.

"You were right."

Kathryn sighed and put her hand over his on the table. He seemed not to notice, continuing to stare at his empty bowl.

"I never shied away from onboard romances when I was in the Maquis, which probably should have tipped me off, but-" He paused, collected his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I should go."

She grabbed his hand to keep him from standing. "Chakotay, please. Talk to me."

"I can't imagine what you went through with Justin," he continued. "My love with Seven was… safe, as you put it, but it is still destroying me." Finally, he looked up at her. "When does it stop?"

"It doesn't," Kathryn said, her voice quiet.

"All I wanted was a life, a good life with a good woman, and the Spirits took her away from me."

Kathryn stood up from the table and knelt beside her first officer, her friend, her almost lover, and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Now you listen to me. There is _nothing_ wrong with wanting those things. Nothing. You deserve every last one of them." She shook him a little to make him look at her. Once she was sure his gaze would stay with hers, she said, "You have people left here who care about you very much. B'Elanna, Tom, Harry, Tuvok… and me. Chakotay, I couldn't do this without you."

She broke eye contact for a moment as she considered what she was going to say. Her voice dropped from the firm tone back to a whisper. "I can't give you what you had with Seven. Not while we're in the Delta Quadrant. Maybe not ever if we don't get home before-"

"We will get home, Kathryn, I promise," Chakotay said, reaching a hand to grip her shoulder.

She smiled a little, and said, "I know." Again Kathryn paused, and when she began to speak again she did so without quite meeting his eyes. "A long time ago, you told me an ancient legend, one where an angry warrior promised to stand by and lighten the burden of a woman warrior."

"And I stand by that promise, Kathryn. My marriage to Seven didn't change that, and neither did her death."

"Thank you. But now, Chakotay, I want to help lighten your burdens. Talk to me, please," she said. "She was your wife, but she was also the closest thing I've had to a daughter since Kes left us. In the year since Seven died, we've never really talked. " _And hadn't much before then, either_, she thought.

Chakotay sighed. "No, I suppose we haven't. Where do you want to start?"

Kathryn smiled, a real smile that lit up her face. "Where we always start. With coffee and a seat on the couch."

She stood and fetched two coffees from the replicator while Chakotay sat on her couch, elbows propped on his knees and his hands covering his face. Kathryn placed his beverage on the coffee table and took a seat next to him.

"We have coffee. We have couch. Now what?" he asked, sitting back.

"You know, you never did tell me about The Moment," Kathryn said after taking a sip of coffee.

"Which one?"

"When she changed from the enemy to a romantic option."

"Ah. I don't think I can pin it down to a moment, but I'll try."

Janeway smiled as he began to tell the story, carefully placing the ugly part of her that had never really accepted the relationship between her first officer and her protégé in a small drawer in the back of her mind, and listened. She couldn't give Chakotay all that he wanted, but they could share with each other the joys and sorrows left behind by someone they both cared for deeply, and that would have to be enough.

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep._

_But I have promises to keep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep._

-Robert Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

* * *

Thank you for reading!


End file.
